


Bar Down

by catwrites



Series: Open Ice [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sports Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwrites/pseuds/catwrites
Summary: Markus loves playing hockey. He loves Detroit. Winning the Stanley Cup was a dream come true. The best possible outcome.More important than anything else is that he loves Connor. It doesn't matter who or what he loves, though. At the end of the day, hockey is still a business.





	Bar Down

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of opening night, the promised sequel! Welcome in, y'all.
> 
> This is set directly after the events of At Center Ice. I'd start there if ya missed it! 
> 
> Sports angst is a real thing. Just wait.
> 
> I had a beta for once! Exceed, thank you for giving this a look through.

Winning the Stanley Cup is every hockey player’s dream. Markus has been on a euphoria high ever since the game ended, like he’s walking on clouds. Now, he understands why so many players work themselves into the ground trying to repeat. He’s never experienced this kind of overwhelming elation before. 

It’s the knowledge that they were good enough. That _he_ was good enough. That he was a good captain for his team. That his name will be engraved in a silver band with the rest of his teammates. All the hard checks, the bruises, the muscle strains, all the injuries they played through were worth it. It paid off. They did it.

The team is rowdy, crowding around in Markus’s house with beers and drinks in hand. They started out on the town, and ended up in his house by some unspoken agreement. Markus is dreading the mess that’ll be left behind, but at least this way everyone is contained in a safe place where there’s at least enough floor space and furniture for everyone to crash when the beer runs out.

Markus is unfortunately unable to drink because of the heavy pain killers the medical staff have him on for his broken face. Thankfully, he probably won’t have to undergo any surgery, but he’s been advised not to blow his nose. Or sneeze. Good thing it’s the summer and his seasonal allergies have been acting up. He sees a lot of nasal spray in his future.

He’s talking with North, Kara, and Luther in the living room when Connor finds him.

“Markus!” Connor says excitedly, sloshing some of the contents of his cup over the side and onto the poor carpet. 

The other three share a look before they excuse themselves from the room. Markus hardly notices them leaving, so focused on Connor’s dazzling smile. He’s beautiful, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He looks good. Almost as good as he did under the bright arena lights, hair sticking to his forehead, while he skated around the rink with the Cup held high above his head.

“Hi, Connor,” Markus replies with a helpless smile. 

“I’ve been looking for you! I came to see if you were okay because your face makes me sad. I mean, not your face. I _love_ your face. But the broken bit is sad,” Connor explains, nodding disjointedly. 

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt right now, and the swelling has gone down so I can mostly see everything,” Markus assures him. “It just looks really bad at the moment.”

Markus had only gotten a glimpse of his face reflected in the Stanley Cup before they went out to celebrate. It had looked awful, and horribly distorted in the curved surface, but the fact that he was seeing it _in the freaking Stanly Cup_ definitely made it better.

Connor smiles, and Markus fights the urge to clutch his chest. That smile should be considered a weapon. 

“That’s good! We won, Markus.”

Markus grins at him helplessly. “Yeah, I know. Thanks to you. That goal was beautiful. I don’t know how you manage to do half the things you do on the ice.”

“You liked the goal?” Connor asks, swaying into Markus unconsciously. 

“Connor, I loved everything about that goal. The way you dug for it in the corner in our zone. You muscled a guy off the puck who had at least thirty pounds on you. Then you carried it away from their D before they’d even realized what had happened. And that wrist shot? Jesus, you’re amazing.”

Connor leans in closer, and his pupils are blown wide. “Yeah?” 

Markus grins at how breathless he sounds. “Yeah. Some of the best hands in the league, for sure.”

“That’s not all these hands can do,” Connor promises him.

Markus turns to him with a teasing smile. “Are you trying to get me into bed? It’s rude for the host to leave his own party early.” 

Connor sets his cup down on the mantle behind Markus with careful concentration so he doesn’t spill it in his uncoordinated state. “I don’t think they’ll mind.”

Markus leans back against the wall invitingly as Connor crowds into him to whisper in his ear. “Markus. Don’t I deserve a reward for that goal? I did it for you, you know. I was so _good_. I didn’t even take a penalty, despite wanting to when McKenzie was saying all that shit in the first.”

“I don’t know, the doctor told me I needed to take it easy,” Markus replies, though he already knows where this is going to go. Markus has been keyed up since the goal went in, and then Connor kissed him on the ice. Kissed him breathless with no care for the people watching.

“We’ll be careful,” Connor promises, and Markus takes his hand and leads him up the stairs.

North wolf-whistles at them as they pass, but Markus doesn’t pay her any attention.

\----

Markus has been waiting for the fallout from their postgame celebration on the ice. Waiting to have to do PR, and interviews, and maybe even some You Can Play campaigns. Whatever he has to do because the freedom of being able to hold Connor’s hand, or kiss him in public, is worth the definitely mortifying interviews they will inevitably be forced to sit for. He is not prepared for the level of cluelessness that seems to abound about what it means that they kissed each other on the ice. 

There are a bunch of articles that come out after their win that talk about the closeness of the Detroit team, and the amazing chemistry the lines have. 

They even include high definition pictures of him and Connor at center ice, kissing and smiling.

None of them seem to make the connection that they’re a couple. 

Connor shrugs, unconcerned, when Markus brings it up during the Cup parade.

“People are oblivious sometimes,” he says.

They’re riding on a float together, waving to the people lining the streets. Markus loves this. Loves getting to share their victory with the city, with their fans, surrounded by his team. There are people all around, cheering and snapping photos. Markus doesn’t want there to be any confusion about what Connor means to him. He’s not really sure how there was any uncertainty to begin with, but he’s going to make things very clear. He’ll tell every reporter within a hundred miles of Detroit until there’s no misunderstanding.

“I want people to know, though,” Markus complains. 

Connor grins at him, and gestures around them to all the people watching, the thousands of cameras. 

Markus kisses him on the float. North whoops while everyone else groans. 

“Get a room,” Josh complains, and Connor pushes Markus away with a shy laugh.

At the end of the parade route, one of the Detroit beat writes waves Markus over eagerly. 

They talk about what it feels like to win. How exciting it is for the team. For the fans and the city. They talk about how his face is healing up. (It still looks rough, which North likes to gleefully point out as they pose for picture after picture with the Cup or with fans or as a team.) And then:

“You and your team seem really close! It’s nice to see players supporting each other the way you and your teammates seem to.”

“Yeah for sure, we’re a close group. It really helps the team when everyone gets along.”

The reporter nods agreeably. “You have to tell me, though. What’s up with the kissing thing?’

Markus stares at him. “The kissing?”

“The kissing! Is that something you do to be close to one another?” 

Markus raises an eyebrow in disbelief. Connor is watching them from a few feet away, and he looks like he’s hardly holding back a smile watching Markus _suffer_.

Markus gestures to Connor, and the reporter looks behind him expectantly. 

“Hey, come here for a second.”

Connor does, looking amused.

Markus loves his stupid little smirk, but for now he has to focus on the fact that this guy still doesn’t seem to get it.

“This is Connor. We’re currently in a committed relationship. I only kiss him.”

The man nods in understanding. “That’s an interesting teammate agreement. Is it a superstition thing?”

Markus stares into the middle distance. This cannot be happening. “Please help me, Connor.”

Connor can’t help him. He’s too busy laughing. 

\----

The summer is a whirlwind of events. Media appearances, team gatherings, training. All while making sure he’s visiting his father frequently enough that he doesn’t get sarcastic messages. ( _Hi Markus, this is your father. Just wondering if I need to talk to your agent to schedule some time with you or not._ ) The list goes on and on. Then, to top it off, the other two Andersons will be spending the rest of the summer in Detroit, and they’ll be just in time for Connor’s day with the Cup. Markus is nervous. He has met Hank and Cole formally, but he hasn’t met Nines and Curtis outside the scope of hockey. 

The only thing he has going for him is that his face has (finally) healed. 

“It’ll be fine, you know,” Connor assures him. They’re waiting at the airport to pick them up. Curtis gets in ten minutes before Nines, which makes it convenient in the simple fact that they won’t have to make multiple trips to the airport, but also means Markus is going to have to meet both of them at once. 

Markus desperately wants to make a good impression because he knows how much Connor’s family means to him. 

Curtis appears with his bag slung over his shoulder, scanning the people around him before he spots them. He smiles and waves wildly at them with enough enthusiasm he nearly knocks his Vegas Knights hat off his head. He navigates the airport crowd easily until he standing before them.

“The Stanley Cup champs! How’s it feel?” he demands, pulling Connor into a rough hug.

Connor splutters, pushing against his brother’s side. “You’re crushing me, you dick.”

Curtis grins at Markus and lets Connor go so he staggers with the abruptness of it. 

“Hi,” Markus says nervously. 

“Hey, man. Nice to finally meet you in a setting where I’m not obligated to smash you face first into a pane of glass. Connor never shuts up about how great you are. I’m glad your face is normal. It gave me nightmares for a week. I don’t know if I’ll be able to block shots with that imagine haunting me.”

“Curtis,” Connor scolds, embarrassed. “Could you be nice, for once in your life. You’re going to embarrass me.”

“I think you do that well enough on your own.”

Markus jumps, startled. He hadn’t even realized that Nines had joined them. 

“You know what, get out of my city,” Connor complains. “Both of you. I’ll buy your tickets right now. And what do you know! You’re already packed.”

Nines pulls Connor and Curtis in, one under each arm, putting them in a headlock with a practiced ease. 

“Is that any way to treat the brothers who have been with you through every single awkward phase and embarrassing event of your life?” Nines says mildly. 

Connor and Curtis manage to free themselves with a lot of squirming (Connor) and one helpful bite to the ribs (Curtis). 

“You cheating little shit,” Nines grumbles, shoving Curtis away with a wince. “I can’t believe you bit me.”

Curtis shrugs unrepentantly as he scoops his hat up from the floor; a casualty in the scuffle. “You named me. I only attempt to live up to it.”

Nines shoves him away with a hand to the face and an eyeroll. “Fucking Cujo.”

“Markus, Conan and Curtis. Conan and Curtis, Markus,” Connor says when there’s some semblance of calm restored.

“It’s good to meet you both,” Markus says, smiling. 

Nines grins. “Nice of you to lie like that.”

Curtis nods agreeably. “We’re a mess.”

Markus laughs. “Wait until you officially meet the people I surround myself with.”

“We absolutely cannot introduce them to North.” Connor looks alarmed at the prospect. 

“Funny of you to think that we haven’t been talking to North this whole time,” Curtis says with an innocent smile as they begin walking towards the car. 

“You what?”

Nines nods. “We have a group chat. Where else were we supposed to vent about the two of you being infuriately dense about your feelings for one another?”

“We can still leave them here. It’s not too late,” Connor tells Markus seriously, and he laughs. 

“It’ll be fine,” Markus reassures. 

He texts North in the car.

 

**[North by Northwest]**

**me, 11:16am:** you’ve been gossiping with the other Andersons?  
**North by Northwest, 11:17am:** I needed someone to vent to about how dumb boys are.  
**me, 11:17am:** aren’t they also dumb boys?  
**North by Northwest, 11:18am:** I’m telling them you said that :)  
**me, 11:18am:** NO

 

He hears a phone vibrate in the back seat. There’s a beat of silence.

“You called us dumb?” Curtis exclaims, leaning forward between the seats.

“You are dumb,” Nines says helpfully.

“North said he called both of us dumb, genius.” 

“I am dumb,” Nines agrees, and smiles at Markus in the review mirror. 

Markus groans and hides his face in his hands while Connor laughs. 

“They’re going to get along too well,” Connor says, voicing Markus’s new fear. 

“Yeah, they definitely are.”

Connor invites Markus and the gang over to his house for a get together. As with most gatherings, it somehow ends up with them playing ball hockey out in the backyard. Markus, Josh, and North against Connor and Curtis. Simon and Nines in goal respectively. 

“We’re down a player, that’s not fair,” Curtis complains.

They had briefly considered offering to let Cole play, but Markus knows how competitive they can all be. He won’t be responsible for his idiot teammates unintentionally harming a middle schooler.

“You have triplet telepathy, if anything isn’t fair, it’s the three of you all being on a team,” Josh points out.

“I’m not even a forward, though,” he says as one last ditch effort to stall. 

“Tough nuts, sweetheart,” North says with a toothy smile. “Should have picked a better position.”

Curtis pretends to drop an imaginary glove down with the air of a knight who has had his honor insulted. 

Markus doesn’t think it’s going to be as easy as Josh and North think it is. Connor is tricky when he’s playing for fun. Plus, Nines scares him still. He can only imagine Curtis has a few tricks up his sleeve just by exposure. 

Nines also apparently scares his brothers. North manages to score on him, and Nines stares them down so hard they cower back.

“Shit, how do you do that?” Simon calls in awe from his net. “I can’t scare my teammates into submission to save my life.”

“You just have to make sure they know you have dirt on them, and you aren’t afraid to let every Deadspin employee know about it. Make sure they understand that you’re the only thing between them and a loss, on multiple fronts.”

Simon stares at him in adoration. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nines smiles, sharp and pleased. “I’ll give you lessons. Half of it in is in the facial expressions.” 

He demonstrates on Curtis who skitters back and away from him with a hiss. “I hate it when you do that.”

Nines raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What was it she said to you? ‘Tough nuts’.”

North skips over and high fives him. Nines complies with a straight face.

“Okay, yeah, that’s unsettling. Jesus, can I have some lessons too? If I look at people like that, maybe they won’t ask me shitty questions about what it’s like to be a girl in a guy’s locker room.” 

Overall, it’s a very pleasant afternoon. Connor is all smiles, laughing as he flips the ball they’re playing with up onto the blade of his stick and lifts it over Simon’s shoulder and into the net.

Simon tries to glare at him.

Connor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not quite. I’m sure you’ll get there.”

Simon shrugs good-naturedly. “I probably don’t have the face for it, anyway.”

Connor turns that smile on Markus, and he bumps into the goalpost he’s so flustered by it. The net wobbles, nearly coming off it’s moors. Simon rolls his eyes at him in exasperation. 

“Can you try and reign in your sappy thoughts? We’re going to lose if you don’t get your mind off your boyfriend,” North complains.

Markus glares at her, righting the net with a huff. “I didn’t do anything.”

Connor smiles at him again, amused and soft, and Markus scowls at the ground so he doesn’t turn into a useless puddle.

“We’re going to replace you with Cole,” Josh warns, though everyone seems to have lost some of the interest in their game. 

Cole grins from where he’s watching with Hank. “That’s not a good idea. Connor and Curtis complain because I always try and go through their legs since I’m shorter than they are.”

“We just don’t want to crush you,” Connor explains.

“It has nothing to do with the fact that then he can get by you to score, and Nines lets him,” Hank says with a snort. 

“I have never _let_ anyone score on me in my life,” Nines says primly from his net.

“You let him score?” Curtis demands, betrayed, and Markus smiles. 

He wishes that he was as close with his brother as the Andersons are. He talks to Leo some. Definitely more now than he did when they both first got into professional hockey. Markus couldn’t stand seeing him struggle through his addiction, but he wouldn’t accept help from anyone. Not from their father, and definitely not from Markus. 

He’s just glad Connor is willing to include them in this. North is laughing, chasing Curtis with her stick as Josh helpfully tries to trip him up for her. Nines and Simon are talking by one of the nets, though Markus has no clue what they’re saying. It sounds like a foreign language to him, but it must mean something in Goalie because they’re both nodding and smiling. 

Connor comes to stand by him. “Thanks for hanging out with us. I know we can be a rowdy group, but I’m having fun.” 

“We are too,” Markus assures him. “This is nice. Don’t get me wrong, I love all the excitement and everything that came with winning, but I appreciate how laid back this is. No one is expecting anything. I don’t have have to worry about embarrassing myself because there are no cameras here.”

“No, just a bunch of people who will hold everything against you,” Connor says with an easy smile as North runs by them cackling, followed closely by Curtis and Josh. 

Markus shrugs. “Worth it.”

Connor nudges him gently with his elbow, before he uses his stick to trip Curtis as he comes by the second time. 

“Down, Cujo,” Connor says, using the same tone he uses with Sumo. 

Hank throws an arm in the air from his lawn chair like a referee. “That’s two minutes, Connor.”

Curtis flops in the grass, staring up at Connor in betrayal. “How do you know she didn’t deserve what was coming to her?”

Connor grins down at him. “Honestly, she probably did, but I like messing with you more.”

North laughs as she bumps her fist against Connor’s. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

\----

It’s weird to start the season after really only having three months of an off-season. They’re usually knocked out in the first round, if they even make playoffs. Markus had expected to still be exhausted from the extra month of tough games, but by the time training camp rolls around, he’s ready to go. The rest of the team seems to agree. 

Markus likes preseason hockey because it’s low stakes. (At least for him, who isn’t fighting with a bunch of other rookies and prospects for a shot at cracking the roster long-term.) It gives him a chance to fall back into rhythm, to see where the team is at. Get to know the play styles of the players they got in the offseason or how to fill in spots left vacant by players they lost. 

It’s just a nice grace period before things get hectic, and wins and loses count for something. It doesn’t matter if there are 82 games in the regular season. It doesn’t matter because the divisions and the conferences are so competitive, even a three-game losing streak can knock a team down in the standings. They missed the playoffs one year because of a bad road trip at the very end of the season. 

Points matter. No matter how early in the season it is. Chasing hockey is losing hockey. They hear it all the time, and despite how obvious it seems, they need to bear it in mind.

Thankfully, they get off to a good start for the season. They look the part of a team that’s coming off a Stanley Cup win.

\----

Their first bad game happens three weeks into the season. They don’t even lose it, though Markus feels like it would have been more fitting if they had.

It starts out great. Markus gets a beautiful goal that starts in the neutral zone. Connor catches his toe in the ice, but still manages to sweep the puck along, get to his feet, and carry it into the offensive end, where he passes it to Markus. Markus scores on a bad angle, nearly on the goal line. It’s a good fucking shot. 

It all goes downhill when Connor gets a breakaway in the middle of the second. The puck comes loose in their end and lands right on the tape of Connor’s stick. He turns and books it for the other end of the ice to the chorus of everyone behind him shouting encouragements. 

“Wheel!” Markus calls after him as he tries to catch up. 

One of the other team’s defenseman tears up the ice after him, catching onto his jersey, then twisting his stick around Connor’s legs. Connor loses his edge, arms wind-milling wildly. It’s such a blatant trip that the referee’s arm immediately comes up indicating a penalty to come. It’ll be a penalty shot for sure. Markus doesn’t think it could be anything else. He had a clear line to the net, and several steps ahead of the defense.

Connor goes down hard, and his momentum propels him forward until he crashes into the boards with a loud thud, helmet first.

Markus doesn’t really think, he just reacts. His gloves are off his hands and he’s got a jersey in his grip before he truly registers what he’s doing. The defenseman in question is much bigger than him, and Markus’s fighting career is woefully inadequate to deal with this situation. He has maybe reacted too hastily in this instance, but it’s too late now. He’s in it.

He swings, and catches his opponent in the chin. Unfortunately for him, that’s about all he manages to do before the other guy manages to knock his helmet free. Then, to add insult to injury, his fight strap somehow comes undone and then he’s trapped in his own jersey as it gets rucked up over his head.

“Break it up, gentlemen,” one of the referees says distantly. 

The hand that was holding his jersey lets go, and he staggers a little trying to keep his skates under him. He fumbles around until he manages to pop his head back out. He scowls grumpily at everyone. 

“Was that tied down?” the referee asks, indicating the fight strap skeptically.

“Yeah, it was. I don’t know how it came undone,” Markus explains, letting himself be steered towards the penalty box. 

“I’ll take your word for it. Next time that shit comes undone, it’ll be an additional penalty, understand?”

Markus steps into the box. “Understood.”

North and Kara skate over to the penalty box and hand him his helmet, gloves, and his stick. 

“Look, Markus, I love you, but please never fight again. That’s two out of two where you’ve ended up looking like a turtle on its back.”

“Fuck you too, North. Is Connor okay?”

North bites her lip, but before she can answer she’s being ushered away by one of the linesmen. 

Markus scans the bench, but doesn’t see Connor sitting among his teammates. He spends the next five minutes in the penalty box worrying about what that means. Connor hasn’t come back by the time he’s freed from his glass prison. 

He isn’t back before the period is over. 

He scampers down the tunnel as soon as the horn sounds, and looks around the locker room. Still no Connor.

“Concussion protocols,” the trainer tells him when he asks. 

Markus feels his shoulders slump. No one wants to hear the word ‘concussion’ thrown around. 

“As in he has a concussion, or you’re keeping him out as a precaution?”

The trainer shakes his head apologetically. “Sorry, Captain, but I can’t share that with you. Patient-doctor confidentiality. You can talk to Connor after the game about it.”

Markus thinks that probably means a real concussion and not just the trainers being careful. 

Going out for the third period without Connor in front of him is weird. Markus always walks out onto the ice behind Connor. They have a tradition, and Markus tries to not be a stereotypical superstitious hockey player, but it feels wrong to not get a high five as they tramp down the tunnel.

They finish out the game and barely squeak in with the win. The flurry of activity at their net while the other team had the empty net for the extra attacker was stressful enough without Markus’s thoughts constantly cycling back to Connor in the dark room. 

He can’t even go see Connor immediately after the game. As Captain, he always gets pulled for post-games. He normally doesn’t mind. It’s part of the job, after all. But Connor is hurt, and he’s waiting for Markus to take him home.

“Can you elaborate on the ‘upper-body injury’ Anderson suffered in the second?” one of the reporters asks as the media session winds down. 

Markus shakes his head. 

“It’s undisclosed for a reason.” He thinks perhaps he was terse in his response, but honestly, it’s no one’s business. 

“That’s all he has time for,” the PR manager calls out to the reporters, and they shuffle away easily, putting away their journals and recording devices. 

“Thanks, Rupert.” 

Rupert waves his hand. “Get out of here, man. Your boy is waiting for you.”

Connor looks pallid in the wash of the hallway lights, and Markus knows it was definitely not just a precaution that they held him out.

“You okay?” Markus asks quietly, running gentle fingers over Connor’s scalp. 

“The lights are really bright, and every little noise makes my head throb,” Connor admits. 

“Shit. Come on, I’ll take you home,” Markus grabs onto Connor’s hand. “You can close your eyes. I won’t let you run into anything.”

“Okay,” Connor says, allowing Markus to lead him by the hand through the halls of the arena and out to where the car is waiting.

“Which home do you want to go to?” Markus asks he gets Connor settled into the passenger seat.

“Your place. Please. I love Cole, but he’s so loud sometimes,” Connor says immediately. 

“Of course, Connor. Whatever you want,” Markus agrees, guiltily pleased that Connor wants to stay with him and not his family. 

Connor’s quiet the whole ride home, eyes closed and arm thrown over them for good measure. 

Markus glances at his face every chance he gets, miserable on Connor’s behalf. He had a concussion once, in college. It wasn’t fun. Accidental contact. Nothing like Connor going headfirst into the boards after he’d been flying down the ice on a breakaway. Connor’s _fast_. Markus doesn’t want to think about how fast he must have been going on impact. 

Markus hovers around Connor feeling useless as the other gets ready for bed sluggishly. 

“If you need anything, let me know, okay? I’ll be down the hall.” 

“Just come to bed, please,” Connor asks, flopping down face first into what has become his side.

“Yeah, okay,” Markus agrees immediately. 

He gets ready for bed as quickly as he can, and as soon as he’s horizontal, Connor stretches out with his head resting on Markus’s chest. Markus makes a low, soothing noise in the back of his throat and carefully runs his fingers through Connor’s hair. 

It doesn’t take long after that for Connor’s breathing to even out as he falls asleep.

Connor rides in with him to talk to the trainers in the morning when he heads to the rink. He has sunglasses pulled down over his face, even as he walks through the halls. Markus watches him walk away, before he gets dressed out for practice. 

They do five-on-three drills, which Markus absolutely hates, but it keeps his mind focused on something instead of what the trainers are telling Connor about how long he’ll be sidelined. 

As practice winds down, and players trickle off the ice in twos and threes, Gavin calls Markus over.

“Get over here, Captain. That was the absolute worst fight I’ve ever seen. It was fucking appalling. When Connor finds out we let you embarrass yourself like that, we’ll never hear the end of it. Let me give you some pointers.”

Markus scowls at him, flushing. “Look, I wasn’t thrilled with how that turned out either. I don’t plan to get into another tilt like that any time soon.”

Gavin gives him a blank stare. “Humor me.”

Markus obligingly takes his gloves off and sets them on the dashers. Gavin copies him.

“Now, you have to make sure you have a hand free. Grab their jersey, like this,” Gavin demonstrates on Markus, tangling his fist in the fabric of Markus’s jersey right by his armpit. 

“So, I don’t grab them by the collar?” Markus clarifies, grabbing Gavin as instructed. 

“That gives them too much freedom to move both arms. Though, that does allow you to get their chin pretty good. If you get them by the shoulder, it makes it harder to extend an arm out like you need to. Try and go for their dominant arm,” Gavin explains.

“So, from here, you have to get your elbow up over their arm,” Gavin says, swinging his elbow up and out over Markus’s arm.

“If they have a longer reach than you, you have to move in closer. Makes it harder for them to bend their elbow in. They’ll have to swing out wide. Gives you time to block, or some shit. Since you’re taller than me, you can stand out farther because it gets you out of my reach. You want to stay in that sweet spot where it’s easy for you to land one on them, and hard for them to hit you. A lot of a fight is in positioning, unless you really want to lay a guy out flat. If that’s the case, well, balls to the wall.”

Gavin spins them slowly, keeping his grip on Markus’s jersey. “It helps to keep moving, too. If you can get your opponent to catch an edge and you end up on top, you basically win. You just gotta be on top if you hit the ice.” 

Markus nods in understanding. 

“Always aim for under the helmet. We missed out on the days where players didn’t wear visors. Man, if I had better access to a nose or two. Probably would have got your boy once or twice,” Gavin says with a grin. “Hitting the helmet hurts. Avoid that at all cost, or you’ll fuck up your hands.”

“You don’t say,” Markus says sarcastically. 

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice, here. North wanted to give you your fighting lesson.”

Markus feels his eyes go wide. “Okay, yeah. You were saying, coach?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m right here, you assholes. I can still kick your ass for fun,” North complains from where she’s been watching with Simon and Josh.

Markus goes to say something back, but Gavin jerks his jersey. “Hey, pay attention. If you look away from a guy trying to knock your teeth out, he’s not going wait for you to get back in it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

Gavin nods approvingly. 

“This is all very helpful, but I really just want to know how I get them stuck in their sweater.”

Gavin laughs. “Oh boy, are you in for a treat.”

The resulting wrestling match sees Gavin so ensnared in his jersey that Simon intervenes in pity.

North laughs so hard she loses an edge and hits the ice.

Markus looks around and realizes that they managed to distract him from worrying about Connor, and he has a hunch that was North’s goal in the first place.

“Thanks, guys,” he tells them softly, and hopes they know he means for more than the lesson.

Connor looks worn out when he finally finds Markus in the locker room. 

“What’s the verdict?”

Connor shrugs. “They said everyone is different, and concussions are just a game of waiting it out. They won’t clear me to skate for at least a week, just on principle. After that, it’ll be up to me to decide when my head feels right.”

Markus winces, but nods in understanding. “Well, listen to the doctors, okay? Don’t do anything to rush yourself back. The team will live without you until you’re completely better. I don’t want you to risk hurting yourself worse out of some sense of duty.”

Connor doesn’t look convinced, so Markus stands up and puts a hand on his neck gently. 

“Seriously. I don’t care about the team’s win-lose record. I care about _you_. So, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. Take it easy. Listen to the doctors. Don’t push it.”

Connor leans into Markus’s touch. “Yeah, okay.”

\----

Connor is out for seven games. Which really means he’s away from the team for two weeks. Markus hates it. Hates leaving him alone when they go on the road, hates the way Connor can’t even watch them play because he’s not supposed to be looking at screens, and the noise of an arena is absolutely out of the question. 

Markus plays some of his worst hockey to date during those seven games. The worst ones when he’s on the road, alone in a hotel room. He isn’t there to check on Connor, make sure he’s taking it easy the way he’s supposed to be. He’s not even supposed to talk on the phone. How is Markus supposed to focus on hockey when Connor is miserable at home?

He’ll take all the blame for the losing skid they go on. It might only be November, but they still fall down far enough in the rankings that Markus feels like a shitty captain and a terrible teammate. 

“This is a team sport,” Josh tells him reasonably. “We all sucked. It’s not just you.”

Markus nods, but doesn’t look up from the floor between his skates. 6-1. They lost 6-1. 

“Sorry, Simon. We left you out to dry.” Markus hates letting Simon down. Hates that all those pucks ended up in the back of their net. 

Simon shakes his head. “I was a leaky faucet today. I could have stopped some of those that went in. It was just one of those games, Markus.”

They have ‘just one of those games’ for all seven that Connor misses. Thankfully, the other games don’t light them up like that. If he never hears that cannon again, it’ll be too soon. 

Markus doesn’t cry when Connor steps out on to the ice with them for the first time since his concussion, but it’s a near thing. Even just having the routine of walking out behind Connor for warmups, slapping the hand held back to him, is enough to settle something in him.

When they head out for puck drop, Connor reaches back for his high five. Markus takes his hand and doesn’t let go. Connor glances at him over his shoulder, and smiles, but doesn’t shake him loose. Markus smiles stupidly at Connor’s back as they go.

The game itself feels surreal.

It starts with Connor walking one of the forwards and both defenseman for the Flames, before going bar down on the goalie exactly twelve seconds into the game. Markus hears the ping of the puck hitting the crossbar, and then the lamp lights red. 

Their goal song blares in the arena. 

“Welcome back,” Markus says as their line collides together in celebration. 

Connor laughs, skating over to the bench and tapping gloves with everyone. 

Two shifts later, North sets up a perfect tic tac toe. She drops it back to Markus, who snaps it across the ice to Connor streaking up the wing. The Flames goalie has no chance of getting across the crease in time.

“Hell yeah,” North shouts, spinning Connor around as the goal song plays again. 

Tina takes a holding penalty, and gets sent to the box with thirteen minutes left in the first. 

Markus and Connor are out on the penalty kill, and Simon manages to get the puck over to Markus from the trapezoid. It gets them out of the zone on a two-on-one, the lone defenseman for the Flames powerplay frantically trying to figure out what Markus plans to do. When the defenseman commits to Markus, he manages to slip the puck across to Connor who sends it in five-hole on the goalie. 

The goal horn sounds. The arena becomes a roar as hats fly down onto the ice. 

“God you’re fucking incredible. I missed having you on the ice,” Markus tells him. 

“That’s my first career hattrick, you know,” Connor tells him as they skate over to the bench.

“Definitely won’t be your last.”

A hattrick in the first half of the first period.

And then, on the same penalty kill, the puck gets lost somewhere in Simon’s pads. Simon blocks the shot from the point, but the puck vanishes into the ether. The referees check the nets, before gesturing at Simon’s legs. 

Simon digs around in his leg pads, shaking his head. Markus isn’t on the ice, so he can’t hear what they’re saying, but Simon looks putout as he stomps around until the puck finally slips out near his skate. 

“Watching goalies vanish pucks like that will never not be funny,” Josh comments as he climbs back over to the bench. 

“Bet Simon didn’t think so,” Markus says with a smirk.

They got into the first intermission up 3-0.

Connor and Markus hold hands in the tunnel as they head out for the start of the second. It was good luck for them so far. 

With less than five minutes left in the period, disaster strikes. Play is completely on their end of the ice. They can’t get it put passed the blueline for anything. Markus gets checked hard into the boards, and loses his balance. When he tries to get back up, he immediately falls back down again. 

He looks down at his foot and groans in annoyance. He lost a fucking blade. He carefully levers himself up, hobbling over towards the front of the net. 

The referee can’t stop play because the other team has possession, so Markus will just have to manage. There’s no way he can get over to the bench fast enough to get someone else on the ice without leaving everyone shorthanded. 

He grits his teeth and plants himself in one of the most common shot lanes. The rest of his line is scrambling around him, and he twists to try and follow the play.

Boom. Down on the ice. 

Right as he falls, the puck goes streaking by him and into Simon’s waiting glove. They get a whistle.

North skates over to his side where he’s sitting on his ass, grinning. “What happened, Markus?” 

He kicks his foot out. “Steel came out of my damn boot.” 

Connor skates over and offers him a hand up, already holding the missing blade in question in his other hand. “Your effort to stay in the game was noted, and appreciated.” 

The bench is all smiles when Connor manages to steer him to it. 

“You were like a mermaid trying to walk, dude. That was great,” Tina says with a grin.

“Yuck it up, everybody,” he gripes, rolling his eyes fondly. 

Connor pats him on the back as he scoots over to the side so Jerry can try and fix his skate. “You’re going to be all over the NHL overtime reports tonight.”

Markus groans. “Great, more gifs of me to float around the internet.”

“At least you didn’t throw it across the ice like Nines when he lost his,” Connor points out reasonably. 

“Maybe it’ll slow the rounds of that one of you two sucking face after the Cup win,” Gavin says with a smirk, before he’s climbing over the boards with the rest of his line for their shift.

Markus flips off his back as best he can with his gloves still on, propping his skate up on the bench for easier access. 

“Nothing is going to stop that one from being shared,” Josh argues with a shake of his head. 

“You all suck,” Markus complains, testing out his skate when Jerry taps his ankle in a ‘good to go’ manner.

“This sure has been an eventful game,” Connor comments when Markus finally scoots his way along the bench back to his line.

“This game is a mess,” North says from Connor’s other side. 

“Speak for yourself,” Connor says mildly. 

North socks him hard in the shoulder. “Whatever, Mr. Hatty.”

Connor smiles, chewing on his mouth guard.

Overall, it’s a good game, even if it seems like every bizarre thing that can happen does.

The hockey gods are like that sometimes.

\----

Connor had been wanting to look for houses in the summer, but in the excitement of winning the Cup, all that got swept under the rug. He’s unofficially moved in with Markus, so he’s not as focused on the deadline, though Markus sees him looking.

“It’s easier when I’m not on the road so much, but I’ll take winning the cup over house hunting any day. I don’t mind staying with my family, but I’d like to have something to call my own at some point,” Connor explains as he drags Markus to another showing on one of their rare days off early in the season.

“Plus, if Nines ribs me one more time for being a daddy’s boy, I might kill him.”

Markus nods agreeably. “That makes sense, yeah. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Connor glances at him before he shrugs with a soft smile. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

North laughs at him when he tells her about how the house hunt is taking longer than Markus had expected. 

“You realize he’s house shopping for the two of you, right? That boy is really bad at sharing his feelings, but he’s definitely looking with you in mind.”

Markus shakes his head immediately in denial. “He’s just looking for a place with enough space for his family. He has three brothers, plus his dad. I think he just wants enough room for all of them.”

North pats him on the cheek. “Sure, Jan.”

Markus can’t stop thinking about what she said, though. They already mostly live together just for the convenience of not having to sneak around a younger brother and suspicious police lieutenant. He realizes he’s never asked, never offered to make it an official thing. He’s just not sure how to broach the topic of making it one. Or to ask if Connor really is looking with both of them in mind. Markus himself _had_ mentioned in passing about looking for a new place. His lease is up soon, and he’s ready for a change, but he’s not going to assume anything. Even if Connor is casually inviting him to every open house he goes to.

Markus glances around the foyer of the house they’re looking at. It’s gorgeous, with dark wood floors and soft grey walls. It’s nice and modern, and Markus thinks it fits Connor perfectly. (It fits them perfectly, but he’s not assuming. He’s _not_.)

“I like this one,” Markus tells Connor as they look at the kitchen. Markus could see himself in here, carefully maneuvering around Connor as they cook together. It’s disgustingly domestic, and Markus wants it desperately. 

Connor glances at him before he looks around the kitchen, considering. “You like this one?”

Markus nods. 

Connor turns to face him. “Then I like this one. Let’s get it.”

“What?” 

Connor gestures between the two of them. “Let’s get it. Move in with me. You said yourself you wanted a change when your lease expires in a few months.” 

Markus pins him against the island. “Have you been looking at houses with the two of us in mind this whole time?”

Connor shrugs, ducking his head shyly. “Maybe.”

Markus groans and rest his forehead on Connor’s shoulder. “North is going to be so smug.”

Connor laughs. “North is always smug, but what was she right about this time?”

“She said you were looking for a house that we could both move into.” 

Connor pushes at him a little so he can see Markus’s face. “Of course I was. Did you not realize that?”

“I didn’t want to assume,” Markus grumbles.

Connor shakes his head. “I should probably have made that clear.”

Markus kisses him in the empty house as the relator watches with a small smile. 

“Let’s get it,” Markus agrees when he pulls away.

Connor glances over at his real estate agent. “We’ll take it.”

They close on the house the next day.

They’re sprawled out in their new bed, in their new _house_ , when Markus thinks of something.

“Are you happy here?” 

Connor looks at him, posture open and soft. “Here?”

“In Detroit. I was just thinking, the two of us will both be free agents at the end of the season. If you wanted to go somewhere else, I’d go.”

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “You love Detroit, though.”

Markus shrugs. “I love where you are more.”

Connor shakes his head fondly. “I love Detroit, Markus. I’m beyond happy here. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

\----

The season rolls on, and it feels like they lose more than they win.

By All-Star Break, they’re just outside of the playoff berth. Detroit’s representative at the games is Simon, who’s been the best player for them as of late. Markus is excited for him to get that recognition. 

“I’d rather go on vacation with the rest of you,” Simon complains as he packs up.

“Nines will be there, maybe you can work on your tough guy persona while you’re away,” North tells him.

He glares at her, and she laughs. “Yeah, still not feeling the menace, sorry.”

Markus shakes his head. “You’re the one that deserves to go out of all of us. You’re the only reason we aren’t lower in the standings than we are.”

Simon frowns at him. “Not like I’ve done great at keeping pucks out though.”

Markus shrugs. “The puck has to get by five of us before it gets to you. There’s already been an awful defensive breakdown if you’re facing shots.”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, don’t do that. We’re a team. It’s not on any one person to carry the team. We’re sucking collectively. It’s fine.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m a constant hockey marvel,” North says dismissively, and grins at them when they glare at her.

“We could be doing better,” Connor says over her.

“We’ll do better,” Simon says easily, shutting his suitcase with an air of finality. 

They barely make the playoffs. They squeak in, sitting in the last wildcard spot of their conference. 

Their season wasn’t great, but they’re still in it. Markus isn’t going to complain about that. Sure, they could have done better. They _should_ have done better, but they are in despite that. They’ll just have to buckle down and work harder.

It all ends with a whimper in the second round. They don’t get swept, but they might as well have. They win one game in the series. One lousy game.

“We’ll do better next season,” Connor says, but his face is blank and sad. 

It’s hard to shake off a loss like this.

\----

“I think we’ve got my contract negotiated out,” Markus says over dinner, watching Connor’s face intently. 

Connor looks up from his chicken. “That’s great Markus!”

“I haven’t signed it yet.”

“Why haven’t you signed it?” Connor sets his fork down to focus his full attention on Markus.

“What about you?”

Connor glances down, and away. “My talks have stalled. I don’t know what will happen, but you should sign. You love Detroit, so sign. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“It’d be easier if we could use the Spousal Clause,” Markus says jokingly.

Connor waves his hand dismissively. “It wouldn’t work. We’d have to have been married before the season started or for at least 5 months before our contracts expired. Either way, we’re too late for that. It’d be good for next season, though.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it,” Markus says uncertainly. 

Connor glances at him, eyes wide, before he shrugs. His eyes keep roaming around, looking at anything but Markus.

“When do you have to sign by?” Connor asks desperately. 

Markus frowns at the blatant attempt at changing the subject, but eventually he relents. He’ll press Connor about it later. 

Markus signs his contract extension. It locks him into Detroit for the next eight years, and he’s got a No-Movement Clause inked in for good measure. 

They’ll cross any other bridges when they get there.

\----

Free agency hits, and Connor doesn't have a contract extension. Markus feels his heart plummet when Connor gets home from talking to management. His face is blank as he hangs his jacket on the hook. 

"They say the raise I deserve is too much. They can’t afford me," Connor says, methodically taking his shoes off and not looking at Markus. "Shouldn't have told then how good I was because now I can't stay with you."

"Connor..." Markus says softly, feeling strangely guilty.

"It's okay. Let's just make dinner. I don't want to think about it," Connor says, stepping around Markus and into the kitchen. 

Markus reaches out for him, but then lets his hand drop. He doesn't know what to say. It's not fair, but it's also probably flat comfort coming from Markus who got his extension. Who gets to stay in Detroit with their team.

Connor moves around the kitchen. Their kitchen, damnit. It’s their kitchen, but now it's going to just be Markus's. They haven’t even fully gotten the house decorated with their busy schedules during the season. Haven’t even put up all their pictures or decided on furniture for the spare rooms. It’s not fucking fair. It’s not fair, and Markus isn’t going to be over the injustice of it anytime soon. 

Markus follows him and they work quietly together. Markus cuts the vegetables that Connor sets out for him.

"Do you know what teams you're gonna reach out to?" Markus asks carefully, not looking up from the asparagus.

Connor shrugs, dumping pasta into a pot. "I told my agent to handle it. I don't want to think about it too much. If I can't stay here it doesn't matter where I go. I just told him that I won’t consider anything that Seattle offers."

Markus stares at Connor's back, and the stiff set of his shoulders. It's not fair. Markus moves over to wrap him in a hug.

"I wanted to stay," Connor says, soft and sad into the curve of Markus's neck. "I didn't care about the pay. I didn't."

"I know. I know you didn't," Markus assures him.

Connor pulls out of his hold. "I'm not really hungry. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit."

Markus watches him go, then stands with his hands braced on the counter and hangs his head. 

He finishes cooking the pasta, then eats it alone at the breakfast bar. The house is quiet and dark around him, all the lights off except for the pendant lights on over the island. He puts the left overs away, and then quietly does the dishes. 

When he gets up to their bedroom, Connor is tucked in on his side, just a lump under the covers in the dark. 

Markus gets ready without turning on any lights. He isn’t sure if Connor is actually asleep or not, but he’ll be quiet just in case. 

Connor isn’t. He rolls over into Markus as soon as Markus crawls under the covers. Markus holds him tight, and they don’t say anything at all.

\----

Markus and Connor have been doing summer training with the teammates who are still here. Markus almost suggest they don’t go, but Connor gets up in the morning before Markus is even awake. 

“We could just stay home. It’s not like we have to show up. It’s not mandatory,” Markus tells him as they load their gear into Markus’s car. 

Connor shrugs, but doesn’t respond before he climbs into the passenger side of the car. 

Markus runs a hand over his head, distressed. Connor hasn’t said much of anything since he got home from talking to management. Markus doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help, but he can’t give Connor a new contract. He can’t make the team sign him long term, even if he desperately wants that. Wants long term. Markus sighs, lightly banging a fist on the roof of the car, before he climbs into the driver’s side.

At the practice facility, North and Josh are already shooting pucks around while Simon pulls on his gear. Gavin is methodically twisting tape around his stick blade, half of his attention on Luther and Kara talking on the bench beside him.

The ice falls quiet when Markus and Connor come out. Connor ignores everyone, ducking his head and heading straight for the locker room.

North skates over to Markus’s side. “How is he?”

Markus shakes his head. “He’s hardly talked to me since he got home. He didn’t even eat dinner with me last night. I don’t know what to do, North.”

She frowns, digging the toe of her skate into the ice. Markus grinds his teeth at the sound of it scrapping, but doesn’t snap at her. He’s not angry with her. He’s not even angry with Connor, who’s shutting him out after everything. He’s just sad. Maybe a little hurt. He can’t take that out on North, who genuinely wants to check on the two of them.

Markus glances around at their assembled teammates. 

“Just… Don’t talk about it. Please,” Markus asks them, making sure they all nod in agreement before he follows Connor down the tunnel. 

Connor is sitting in one of the stalls, resolutely lacing his skates. Markus watches the muscles of his arm bunch as he pulls them tight. Tighter than he should. Markus walks over quietly and drops down in front of him.

Connor lets go of his laces and looks at him through his lashes. “I’m…”

Markus shakes his head, and Connor falls quiet. Markus carefully undoes the laces, retying them so they aren’t squeezing Connor’s feet through the boots.

“You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to share with everyone what you’re thinking or feeling. Just know that we’re here for you, okay? I’m here for you.”

Connor nods, watching Markus lace his skates for him.

Markus puts a hand on his knee when he’s done, sitting on the floor of the locker room.

“I’m sorry,” Markus says, and he’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry because his teammates are waiting for them, and it’s not his hurt. He’s not going to be selfish about this. Connor has the raw end of this deal, as much as it hurts him too. 

Connor gives him a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Me too.”

Detroit signs players, including Traci Rose, a defender that North and the rest of the ladies on the team are excited about.

Markus won’t be mad at them, at Traci, just because Connor didn’t get a new contract. He won’t. It’s not their fault.

Connor signs with a team in August. A three-year deal that will take him to Boston. 

“Well, at least you can play with Nines,” Markus says, trying to be optimistic when Connor mentions it.

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” Connor agrees, though the small smile on his face doesn’t last long. 

“I’m going to miss Detroit,” Connor says eventually, pursing his lips.

\----

Connor leaves for training camp in four days, and every little thing between them is somehow an argument. 

“I think I’m going to hang our Stanley Cup stuff in the office,” Markus comments off-handedly to Connor one afternoon, looking at the framed picture of the team all together with the Cup. 

Connor had laughed and laughed at the picture when they first saw it. Markus’s face is forever immortalized there, bruised and swollen from a puck to the cheek. It’s ironic that the happiest day of his life was also marred by his worst injury to date. Markus hopes maybe seeing it up on the wall will cheer Connor up.

“Do what you want,” Connor says, not looking up from his phone.

Markus stares at him. “Do you care at all?”

Connor looks up at him, confused. “You’re the one that’s going to be living here.”

Markus sets the picture frame down as gently as he can manage with how much his hands are shaking.

“If you don’t want to keep doing this, just tell me. If you don’t want to do long-distance, fine. Just fucking tell me,” Markus says, trying to keep his voice steady and level.

Connor stares at him, eyes wide. “You think that’s what I want?” 

Markus gestures at him. “What else am I supposed to think when you won’t even give me feedback about the house?”

Connor stands up. “Hang the fucking picture! It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t even be here most of the year. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to act like you give a shit! We bought the house together. That means something to me, okay? I know that was under the impression that we’d both be living in it year-round, but I thought you’d come back in the off-season. During the holidays. If you don’t want that, fucking tell me, okay? I can take it. I just assumed this was a long-term thing when we bought a fucking house together. If being in different cities changes that for you, pony up and tell me. I’ll sell the fucking house. I’m not staying here by myself if you aren’t coming home at the end of the season.”

Connor shakes his head. “How could you even think that?” 

Markus gestures between them. “You’ve hardly talked to me all summer. What am I supposed to think?”

Connor grabs his keys off the counter and jams his feet into his shoes. “I’m going to see my family. Don’t wait up.”

Markus stands in their kitchen, listens to the sound of the front door slamming and Connor’s car starting. 

Markus sits down in the chair Connor just left and rest his head on his folded arms. 

Connor doesn’t come home. Markus goes to the rink, comes home, eats dinner alone. Repeat. He doesn’t try and text him. 

His teammates look worried when he shows up. He knows he probably looks awful. He hasn’t been sleeping well.

“Have you talked to Connor?” Markus asks North quietly before he goes home the day Connor’s supposed to leave.

North shakes her head. “No. Last he said to me was about how he was going to hang out with his dad and Cole before he left so he was staying with them.”

“He didn’t say anything about the argument we got into?” 

North looks at him, eyes wide. “You guys got into an argument? No, he didn’t say anything about that.”

Markus shrugs helplessly. “I haven’t seen him since he left the house Tuesday.”

“Oh Markus,” she says softly, and pulls him into a hug. He tries not to cling too tightly to her.

When Markus gets home from the rink, a bunch of Connor’s stuff is gone. Markus freezes in their bedroom. It looks so empty with none of Connor’s things spread out. He wishes he wasn’t as upset by it all as he is. Connor didn’t even stick around to say goodbye. 

Markus closes his eyes for a second. He opens them again and notices the small box on his pillow. The small, black, _velvet_ box on his pillow.

Markus opens it with shaking hands, and stares at the ring inside. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, but eventually he jolts up and dives for his phone.

Connor forwards him to voicemail. 

“Connor. Connor, you absolute asshole, pick up your fucking phone. Is this a joke to you?”

Markus paces around the house. He passes by the office only to notice that the damn picture is up on the wall, right where he wanted it. He didn’t even tell Connor where he was going to put it. Connor just knows him that well. He stares at it, feeling choked up, and Connor still isn’t answering his phone. He doesn’t even know what time Connor’s flight out is. Christ, this is such a mess.

He videocalls North.

She answers, and it’s loud through the tiny speakers of his phone. She shushes whoever she’s with, and as the screen flips around he sees a flash of bright blue hair and a shock of blonde. 

“Party foul,” says Tina’s voice, before North manages to get the camera oriented on herself.

“We have to answer for the Captain. We established that rule three seasons ago,” North says before she grins at Markus. 

Her face falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt girls’ night. How’s Traci fitting in? Are you guys playing nice?”

“Stop that. I hate it when you try and put the team first. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes okay? I just need to get my check.” 

Markus feels a profound sense of gratitude for North. 

“You really don’t have to,” he says with little conviction. 

She glares at him. “I’ll be right there.

She sweeps into the house, banging the door open in her hurry. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Did he tell you about this?” he asks her, holding the box up for her to see.

She stares at it for a second, before realization dawns on her face and she snaps her eyes back to meet Markus’s.

“I mean, he asked if I knew anything about your jewelry preferences back in February, but he absolutely did not tell me about that! As his self-appointed best friend, I’m offended. Did you guys talk?”

“No! He just left it on my pillow after he cleared his stuff out of the house. He ignored my call when I tried to get ahold of him.”

North stares at him with wide eyes. “He just left it on your _pillow_? God, he’s such a mess. Maybe his brothers know something? He talks to them on the regular.”

Markus nods. “That’s a good idea. I’ll reach out to them.”

He immediately opens his text messages to do that.

“Markus,” she says softly.

“Yeah?” Markus glances up at her.

She looks uncertain, before she seems to decide on something. “Don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s been really torn up about the whole contract thing. Absolutely talk to him about everything, and don’t hide the fact that he hurt you, okay? Just… You never saw the way he was looking at you these past few weeks. I couldn’t stand to see it.”

Markus nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay.” 

“Thanks Markus,” she says in relief. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? We can just hang out for a little bit.”

Markus nods. “Yeah that sounds good.”

They move into the living room, and Markus sits down on the couch while North flips through their options. He doesn’t know how he’s going to approach asking Nines and Curtis about the situation, but having North there already makes him feel better. He just doesn’t want to be alone.

In the end, he settles on sending them both a picture of the ring. 

 

**[Connor Support]**

**me, 2:34pm:** [2039.0912_1154.jgp]  
**Curtis, 2:34pm:** !!!!  
**Curtis, 2:34pm:** finally!!! he’s been agonizing over asking you all summer. he was so worried about whether or not you’d say yes because he wasn’t sure if he was going to be in the city. then it got even worse when he didn’t get his extension.  
**Nines, 2:35pm:** “What if he finds someone else? What if he decides that he’s better off without me?”  
**Curtis, 2:35pm:** he was being completely melodramatic. i can’t believe he asked on the day he’s supposed to leave  
**me, 2:36pm:** what? WHaT? he’s been thinking about this all summer? he was worried I’d find someone else just because he was playing somewhere else???  
**Nines, 2:36pm:** We tried to tell him he was being foolish. I guess he finally listened.  
**me, 2:37pm:** except he didn’t, because I came home and he’d packed all his stuff and left it for me to find.  
**Curtis, 2:37pm:** He did what. Excuse me for a moment.  
**me, 2:38pm:** exactly. I just don’t know if he was leaving it to show he was leaving me, or if this was his way of asking.  
**Nines, 2:38pm:** Unfortunately, knowing how much of a dipshit he is, I think he was asking. He’s always been shit at romantic gestures.  
**Curtis, 2:39pm:** I called him. He’ll call you as soon as he lands, okay? He’ll call you.  
**Nines, 2:39pm:** You bet your ass he’ll call. I’m going to tear him a new one as soon as he gets here. I’m picking him up from the airport, so as soon as I have him, you’ll get a call. One way or another.  
**me, 2:40pm:** don’t hurt him. I still like him.  
**Nines, 2:40pm:** I’ll do my best, but no promises. 

 

Markus spends the rest of the afternoon and into the evening watching movies with North and thinking. Connor has been wanting to ask him all summer? He was asking North about his jewelry preferences in _February_. Before Markus even mentioned the thing about the Spousal Clause, and then Markus _joked_ about it. No wonder Connor looked so skittish during that conversation.

When his phone rings sometime after six, he dives for it. North watches him, before she slips out of the living room. He appreciates her consideration for their privacy. Though he assumes she knows both of them will be telling her whatever happens.

“Hello?” he answers hopefully.

“Hi, Markus,” Connor says, sounding tired and far away. There’s a lot of noise in the background. He’s probably still in the airport, waiting for his bags. 

“Connor.” The name feels like a relief rolling off his tongue. 

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want to say goodbye. I couldn’t say goodbye,” Connor says. “My brothers have informed me that I’m an idiot.”

“You might be one of those,” Markus agrees. 

Connor is quiet for a beat. “It’s serious, though, okay? I’m asking. I want you to understand where I am on this.”

Markus laughs, feeling lighter than he has in _days_. “This isn’t how I imagined this would go.”

“I didn’t know how to ask. I was scared,” Connor says. “So, I just did what I always do, and made a fool of myself instead. You started in about hanging things in the office and me not giving a shit, and there’s nothing further from the truth, Markus. I need you to know that. I just couldn’t figure out how to make you understand. I wanted to before the season even ended, but I wasn’t sure if that was something you would want. Then, my contract negotiations weren’t going well, and I was afraid of what it would mean if we weren’t playing in the same city.”

There’s a beat before Connor says, soft and sad, “And I didn’t want you to think I was only asking because I was desperate to make sure I stayed in Detroit.”

“You should have talked to me,” Markus says quietly.

“I know. I’m talking to you now, though. Better late than never, right?” 

Before Markus can reply, he distantly hears someone, probably Nines, talking to Connor. Connor says something away from the phone, sounding annoyed.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight, okay? There’s been some mix-up with my luggage.”

“You better fucking call me tonight, you asshole.”

“I will, promise.” He pauses. “I love you.”

Markus closes his eyes. “I love you, too.”

 

**[Connor <3]**

**Connor <3, 6:27pm:** Hey, you never said yes or no.  
**me, 6:29pm:** You’ll see.

 

North comes back into the room once he’s set the phone back down. 

“What did he say? Do I need to kick his ass for you?”

Markus shakes his head, but he can feel the smile on his face. “That fucker actually proposed to me by leaving a ring on my pillow.”

North stares at him, and then rolls her eyes. “I thought he couldn’t be any dumber. That boy needs _help_. You said yes, right? Or are you going to make him ask you better in person?”

“I didn’t give him an answer yet,” Markus says. “I have a plan for that.”

North shakes her head. “You are both hopeless. Lord help me.”

Markus approaches their equipment manager in the morning. The team is at the rink to do their physical evaluations before training camp starts the following day. 

Jerry looks at him, eyebrows raised, but then shrugs. “Yeah, I can do that. You say you already cleared it with the league?” 

Markus nods. “I talked to the commissioner this morning.”

“Doesn’t hurt me any, then. You want it ready for by the start of training camp?” 

Markus hesitates, but then shakes his head. “Season opener.” 

“Does Connor know about this?” Jerry asks with a knowing smile.

Markus shakes his head. “Nobody knows. Just you, so far.”

“That’s quite a statement,” Jerry comments.

“I have to one up him somehow.”

Jerry opens his mouth, then shakes his head. “I don’t want to know the details. It’ll be ready in your stall on October 4th.”

“Thanks, Jerry. You’re the best.”

When the season opener rolls around, Markus is nervous. He wears the original jersey for warmups. He doesn’t want to cause a fuss before the game even starts. Plus, they don’t really televise the warmups, though the cameras would probably start rolling if he stepped out on the ice with his new jersey. Instead, he switches them out before the puck drop. 

North makes a noise like someone’s stabbed her when she sees it. “What the fuck, Markus? Why do my bestest friends keep keeping secrets from me. First Connor, now you. This is a betrayal I’ll never get over.”

The locker room gets rowdy for a few moments as they all voice their opinions, but Markus waves them quiet with a hand. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, like a giant liar. 

North scoffs. “Not a big deal. Does Connor know abut this? Does he have a new nameplate too?”

Markus shakes his head. “No but he gave me a ring, so I think he won’t be too upset by it.”

The locker room gets, impossibly, noisier. 

“Settle down! It’s not even official yet. I did this for Connor. Just, please, focus on the game. It’s the home opener. We’ve got an arena full of people who came here to see us play hockey.” 

North plucks at the back of his jersey. “How you expect me to play hockey when you’re making a giant, sappy romantic gestures is beyond me. You couldn’t just tell him yes like a normal person? At least now I might be faster than you since you added, what, fifty pounds in extra letters?” 

Markus frowns at her and she laughs.

Markus doesn’t know if it’s in his head or not, the feeling of the extra letters wrapping around his shoulder blades. He feels them, though. He’s hyperaware of them, of the way they lay against his back. The way they pull and fold as he moves. 

‘MANFRED-ANDERSON’ certainly does take up a lot of real estate on the back of jersey. 

He ignores it as he heads out to wait in the tunnel with the rest of the team. Opening night has a lot of ceremony to it. He can hear the music, and their PA announcer going over the names of the coaches and trainers. Of the scratched players. Then numerical order for everyone without a letter. 

He’ll go out last, as captain, behind North and Josh, his As. He’ll have to skate out with everyone lined up and waiting. All attention will be on him. He told the announcer to still call him out as Markus Manfred, but the nameplate on his jersey will be on full display. 

He takes a breath as his name gets called and takes a running start out onto the ice. The roar of the arena lowers some, before the noise is deafening. He skids to a stop next to North, spraying her legs with ice.

“Way to make an entrance,” she comments, tipping her head to the general chaos around them.

“I try.” Markus bumps his fist to hers when she offers it.

When the game is over and he manages to look at his phone once he’s finally home, he has a sea of notifications. 

**[12 unread messages]**  
**[3 missed calls: Dad, Agent Do Not Ignore, unknown number]**  
**[3 new voicemails]**  
**[489 Twitter mentions]**

He grimaces and starts with the voicemails. 

 

**New voicemail, received today at 7:35**

_“You know, I always expect my sons to share big events in their lives with me. The fact that I wasn’t even invited to the wedding stings, Markus. I expect you to call me first thing in the morning, young man.”_

**New voicemail, received today at 7:37**

_“Markus Manfred, of all my clients I thought might pull some kind of stunt like this, you were the last one I expected. I would have really appreciated a heads up. I’m fielding all these calls now, and I don’t know what you want me to tell people. If you could give me a call, that’d be aces.”_

**New voicemail, received today at 8:03**

_“Hi Markus, this is Brian Kitts for the You Can Play Project. I’d love to do a segment with you and Connor if you two could find some time in your schedules. Give me a call back at this number.”_

 

**[Leo]**

**Leo, 7:30pm:** Kindly what the fuck, Markus.  
**Leo, 7:35pm:** Congratulations. 

 

**[Hank Anderson]**

**Hank Anderson, 7:45pm:** I’m really tired of finding out about things through a combination of Cole and Twitter.  
**Hank Anderson, 7:46pm:** Welcome to the family, kid.

 

 **[Connor Support]**

**Curtis, 7:30pm:** wtf markus  
**Curtis, 7:30pm:** did connor know about this???  
**Nines, 7:32pm:** I can attest to the fact that he did NOT know about this.  
**Nines, 7:32pm:** [2039.1003_1344.jpg]  
**Curtis, 7:32pm:** oh w o w. good job. i’ve never seen him make that face before.

 

**[Nines]**

**Nines, 7:31pm:** [2039.1003_1343.mp4]  
**Nines, 7:31pm:** Lucky for you, I managed to get this video of his real-time reaction to your new jersey. You’re welcome.

 

**[Connor <3]**

**Connor <3, 7:32pm:** Call me when your game is over. I don’t care how late it is.

 

Connor’s message is the only thing he cares about.

He calls him.

The phone doesn’t even finish the first ring before Connor is on the other end.

“Markus. _Markus_.”

“Did you like it?” Markus asks him, suddenly nervous. Maybe he should have cleared it with Connor first.

“Are you seriously asking me if I liked seeing my name across your back? You’re crazy. I gave you a _ring_. I dream about seeing my name on your back. Every fantasy I ever have is about you wearing a jersey with my name across the back.”

“You should tell me about them sometime,” Markus says, pitching his voice low and inviting. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end of the line.

“Some of them are pretty graphic.”

“You should definitely tell me about them.”

When he’s finally settling down in the bed to actually sleep, his phone buzzes on the nightstand.

 

**[North by Northwest]**

**North by Northwest, 1:07am:** LOL https://www.thescore.com/nhl/news/nhl-captain-changes-name  
**North by Northwest, 1:08am:** Maybe you just need to fuck him on the ice?

 

Markus clicks on the link hesitantly.

He groans and considers throwing his phone when he sees the headline.

**‘NHL Captain Markus Manfred Changes Name in Honor of Good Friend’.**

He also briefly considers leaving a comment on the article, but decides it’s not worth it. Eventually, maybe, everyone will actually get it.

He doesn’t know how many more ways he can make it clear that he loves Connor Anderson. North’s suggestion will be plan Z. 

\----

Markus isn’t playing great. He doesn’t want to blame it on distraction. This is his _job_ , he should be able to filter things out. Connor is doing fine with the Bruins. He doesn’t understand why he can’t get his own head on straight. 

He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that the Bruins are in their division. That he’ll get to see Connor and his team six times in the regular season. The first one comes in the second week of October, only a week and a half after their home opener. 

They’ve been apart for a month and two days.

It’s the best game he’s had since the season started. He doesn’t know what that says about him. He plays his flashiest hockey; tries to say ‘look at me’ with every pass, every shot. He wants Connor’s attention. Honestly, it feels like he _needs_ Connor’s attention, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate. He’ll just play desperate instead.

His shinning moment is when he scores from behind the goal line by bouncing the puck in off Nines as he moves back into the net. His celly is probably a little over the top, and Nines glares at him the entire time.

Yikes.

He skates away pretty fast after that one.

He doesn’t think it’s his imagination that Connor seems to be doing the same, upping the ante at every turn. 

They still manage to win, though it’s probably the closest game they’ve ever played.

Afterwards, Markus waits excitedly outside the visitor’s locker room for Connor. 

When the door opens, it’s Nines that slips out, looking behind him before he quickly turns to look at Markus.

“You aren’t the Anderson I was expecting,” Markus says, and tries not to sound too disappointed. He doesn’t want to hurt Nines’s feelings.

“Don’t worry, yours is coming out soon. He just has to find his shoes first.”

“Did you hide his shoes?” Markus asks, suspiciously. 

Nines looks at him seriously. “Don’t make me answer that. Keep your plausible deniability. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay?” Markus says uncertainly. 

Nines glances both ways down the hallway before he tugs Markus down a side hall that leads to a storage room.

“You need to fix him. I going to commit fratricide if he doesn’t stop lying down on my floor like the world’s largest morose cat. He calls it his crisis spot and seriously I cannot live like this. It’s at the top of my fucking stairs, Markus.”

Markus stares at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Connor. What else would I be talking about? He won’t tell you this, but he wants to call you more. He’s afraid of seeming clingy, so instead of calling you, he lies down on the carpet at the top of the stairs to ‘think’. Or so he says. I think he’s just trying to annoy me into killing him so maybe he won’t miss you so much.” 

That does not illuminate the situation any for him any. In fact, that statement just seems to muddle things more.

“I’m confused. It seems like he’s doing fine? He always sounds fine on the phone. He seems normal in the press.”

Nines huffs in annoyance. “Look, Connor will never tell anyone when he’s upset. He throws himself into the game and does what he’s told because that’s what he’s used to. I don’t know how much he’s told you about his time in Seattle, but he’s been conditioned to think he can’t voice his displeasure or discomforts.”

Markus frowns, but apparently there’s more to it than that because Nines keep talking. 

“The only reason I know as much about Seattle as I do is because he’d call us, drunk off his ass to talk about how much he hated it there. Markus, he _hated_ it there. I don’t think anything has hit him the way playing in Seattle did. He didn’t have friends on that team. He didn’t have anything, so he had to get by on his own. He had friends in Detroit, and then he didn’t get to stay. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Markus nods uncertainly. “So, what happened with Seattle?”

Nines shakes his head. “Seattle was just a mess. Trust me. The team was afraid of management, afraid of the coach. They hardly even talked to each other on the bench. How is a team supposed to win if they’re too scared to talk to each other about the game, or set up plays? It was just a virulent environment and it took a toll on Connor. Especially since the front office had him doing shit he’s too good to be doing. Curtis and I did our best to help, but he didn’t talk to us much about Seattle willingly. He’s always afraid of being a burden or some shit, I don’t know. Even with us, so I know that giant idiot won’t tell you if he wants something because he won’t want to feel like he’s too much to handle.”

Markus nods, somewhat dazed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Nines nods and they walk back out into the hallway just in time for the locker room door to bang open. Connor looks frustrated and flushed. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t find my shoes,” Connor explains, shooting Nines a suspicious glare. “What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t talk to my future brother-in-law? What is the world coming to?” Nines say, brushing by Connor with a smirk. 

Before he disappears back into the locker room, he leans back out to look at Markus. “Oh, by the way, if you score another goal like that on me again, I’ll kill you.”

Markus stares at the closed door for a moment. “He sure does talk about murder a lot.”

Connor nods. “Yeah, we think he was a serial killer in a past life.”

Now that Markus can get a look at him, a real look without excretion and the lighting of the rink distorting everything, Connor does look exhausted in a way that even hockey can’t account for. Markus smiles at him, and pulls him into a hug that isn’t hindered by layers of padding. He feels a little guilty for the fact that he’s glad that the separation is affecting Connor just as much.

“Come on, lets go home. What time do you have to be back to the team hotel?”

“We have to be on the bus by 8,” Connor says apologetically. “I wish we had the morning to laze around.”

“I’ll take any time I can get with you. I’ve missed you. A lot,” Markus says, holding his hand and pulling him along.

“I’ve missed you too,” Connor says softly and squeezes the hand in his.

Markus can’t wait to get him home.

 

**[Nines]**

**Nines, 3:23pm:** [2039.1015_3456.jpg]  
**Nines, 3:23pm:** In case you thought I was exaggerating.  
**me, 3:24pm:** omg he really is at the top of the stairs  
**Nines, 3:24pm:** Yes, he is.

\----

Markus calls Connor as often as their schedules will allow. Even if it’s just for fifteen minutes, he calls. It makes this a little easier, but there’s nothing Markus can do to completely soothe that dull ache of missing him. 

Markus doesn’t think he’s ever used his phone as much as he does in this season. He uses it to talk to Connor. Nines sends him scathing texts about how pathetic they both are. Curtis makes fun of them in the group chat. His father calls to check in. _Hank_ calls to check in.

Markus actually sees Hank and Cole somewhat regularly. Carl doesn’t come to the games that often, so the tickets he has to give away wouldn’t get used otherwise. 

Markus always makes it a point to talk to them when they show up.

“How are you holding up?” Hank asks on one such occasion while Cole demands Josh explain exactly what thought process led him to banking a pass off the boards for his assist. 

Markus shrugs. “Okay.” 

Hank nods, scrunching his nose up before he says uncomfortably, “I know it’s hard when you have to be away from the people you care about. You’re always welcome around so you don’t get caught up in your head about it.”

Markus smiles at Hank. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Hank pats him on the shoulder, still looking mildly out of his element before he calls Cole back over.

“Hey, quit bothering the hockey players. It’s time for us to go home. You have school in the morning.”

“But dad! Josh was just-“ Cole protests, even as Hank steers him out of the room by the shoulders. 

“I don’t care. It’s past your bedtime. Christ, it’s past _my_ bedtime.”

Markus shakes his head fondly as the sounds of them arguing fades away.

\----

The next game they play against each other, they’re in Boston and North gets into a fight in the second period. 

North isn’t one to just drop her gloves without a real catalyst, but Markus wasn’t close enough to hear what set her off. She was in the corner and he was near the blueline when things escalated beyond the usual amount of shoving that happens when players get tied up in the corner like that.

Markus stays back. He knows she can handle herself, and he isn’t really too keen to test and see how his lessons have paid off. 

He turns at the sound of skates approaching and grins at Connor as he gets close enough. 

“What’s going on?” Connor asks as he skates into Markus’s open arms.

“Not a lot. Just wondering what happened over there,” Markus says, half of his attention on the preceding on the ice.

“She really does know how to throw a punch,” Connor comments, glancing over. 

Markus and Connor stand there together until the referee pull North away from her victim, Perkins.

She’s livid, lip split and teeth bloody. 

“You fucking say that again. Why don’t you say it while everyone can hear, huh? You realize his fucking fiancé is on your team, right? And I’ll tell you right now, if you’re saying shit like that about Connor, I will absolutely kill you.”

There’s a beat where they can’t hear what the Perkins says. Whatever it is makes North lunge forward. Simon and Josh move in to help the referee restrain her. 

“I don’t _care_ that he’s not on my team anymore. He’s one of my best friends. If you think I won’t tell him what you said about Markus, you’re dead fucking wrong. I think Nines might have a problem with it too, now that I think about it. I’ll tell them all right now what a piece of shit you are.”

Markus and Connor share a look before skating over. 

“Calm down,” Markus tells her quietly, as Connor and Markus work together to shoulder her back.

North wheels around on him. “I’ll calm down when this _piece of shit_ is nothing more than a smear on the ice.”

Markus glances at Perkins, nursing what is most likely a broken nose. He’s also missing a tooth that he had previously. 

“You worked him over pretty good. If he really is that bad, the league will do something about it.”

North glares down at him in disgust, before she pulls Connor into a tight hug. “If he ever talks shit to you, let me know. I’ll run him down every time we play.”

Connor pats her on the back gently. “Thanks.”

North gets ushered down the tunnel to the locker room to get her lip looked at. 

Perkins gets ushered down his own tunnel for his nose, though when the official list off all the penalties, it’s clear he won’t be back for the rest of the game.

North gets two for boarding, and five for fighting.

Perkins gets two for instigator, five for fighting, a misconduct for unsportsmanlike conduct, and a game misconduct for using slurs on the ice. 

After the game, he sees gifs all over every social media platform. Him and Connor hugging on the ice during the fight. North beating Perkins into the ground. Connor and North hugging on the ice afterwards. 

There are a lot of articles that come out after that too. 

**’Friends Reunited on the Ice, Watch Teammates Drop the Gloves’**  
**’We’re Jealous of These Hockey Players Friendship’**

North really likes the one that wonders if they’re all in a polyamorous long-distance relationship. 

She plasters the article all over Markus’s stall before practice one morning. 

**’What is the Truth About Detroit’s Kelly North and Markus Manfred-Anderson and Boston’s Connor Anderson? A Tragic Love Story.’**

North remains tight lipped about what Perkins said, but her mouth twist into a snarl anytime he’s brought up after the fact. 

“As much as I was threatening to tell you both, I don’t want Connor to know. He still has to play with that dickhead. I told Nines. He’ll keep an eye on it.”

Markus thinks that’s pretty levelheaded considering how wrathful she’d been in the moment. 

Perkins gets suspended for two games by the league for his conduct and sentenced to sensitivity training. 

Then Markus sees the headline **’Anderson Fights Perkins at Team Practice’** , and immediately assumes Connor. 

The video that floats around on Twitter, taken by fans at the open practice, clears that up. 

Nines is fucking scary. Markus has seen some of the things media will classify as teammates fighting. Most of the time, it’s just friends horsing around. It looks serious, and then two seconds later everyone is all smiles. He’s seen some real fights between teammates before too. This is definitely the real thing.

“He didn’t say anything to Connor,” Nines assures him on the phone when Markus calls about it. “I just couldn’t get over what North told me. Guy had it coming. He’s always been an asshole to everyone. We all tolerate him, at best, but this was a step too far.”

The Bruins terminate Perkins’s contract a week later for material breach of the requirements for him to obey Club policy regarding player conduct. 

North looks viciously pleased about the fact.

“He just kept talking about your… weaknesses because of your relationship with Connor. Of course, he didn’t phrase it so politely. Honestly, I don’t even want to repeat what he was said, but it was bad Markus. Nines let him off easy. He’s a piece of shit, and the league was too good to him, letting him quietly fade away this way.”

Markus lets it drop. It was bad enough to get his contract terminated. And if _North_ says something is bad, he probably doesn’t want to know anyway. 

\-----

It’s late evening on a Friday night in mid-December when he gets a phone call. He’s sitting at home, watching the NHL Network coverage of Curtis and his Vegas Knights playing in Winnipeg. He’s not really paying attention to the scroller at the bottom of the screen.

“Hey Connor. Shouldn’t you be getting on a plane? I thought you were playing an early game in Raleigh tomorrow.”

“I’m getting on a plane, but I’m not going to Raleigh,” Connor says, and he sounds almost giddy. 

“What does that mean?” 

“I’m coming home, Markus. I’ve been traded. Again, but fuck I don’t even care. Nines is thrilled that I won’t be here. He’s already offered to let Gavin stay with him, which I know is going to be a nightmare. I told him that, but I’m curious to see the fallout.”

“Wait. We traded Gavin for you?” 

“Along with a second-round pick, plus a conditional first rounder.”

Markus feels a flash of remorse that Gavin won’t play with them anymore. Gavin’s a good guy, once you get passed the sarcasm and dry humor. Markus will miss him, certainly, but he’s getting _Connor_ back in return.

“Come home. Get on that fucking plane.” 

Connor laughs, bright and happy. It’s the happiest Markus has heard him in months. “I’ll be home soon. My plane lands at 11:06.” 

“I’ll be there.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll catch a taxi. We have skate in the morning. You’ll be tired.” 

“Connor. I’ll be there.”

 

**[North by Northwest]**

**North by Northwest, 8:57pm:** !!!!!!!  
**North by Northwest, 8:57pm:** I’d demand you to take me to the airport with you, but I’ll probably puke at the sight of you two being all lovey at baggage claim. 

They keep their reunion PG, at least while they’re in the airport. 

**’Our Favorite NHL Players Reunited. 27 Images to Make You Jealous of Their Friendship.’**

 

**[Anderson Triplets]**

**Nines, 3:27pm:** Who the FUCK is this guy? He locked me out of MY HOUSE when I told him he folds his shirts like an animal.  
**Nines, 3:28pm:** I swear to GOD, I’d rather deal with Connor’s melodramatic ass than THIS affront.  
**Curtis, 3:30pm:** omg  
**Nines, 3:30pm:** I only let him stay because I was being NICE, and I wanted to thank him for his inadvertent sacrifice, saving me from my dumb pining brother. Now THIS.  
**Connor <3, 3:32pm:** Sorry Nines, but that’s just Gavin for you. I warned you that he’d probably get on your nerves.  
**Nines, 3:33pm:** This is beyond getting on my nerves. I’m going to k i l l him. We can call up someone from Providence. I don’t need to deal with this.  
**me, 3:34pm:** I feel obligated to point out that your father is a detective.  
**Nines, 3:34pm:** I’m out of his jurisdiction. More importantly, no one is going to find his body.  
**Curtis, 3:34pm:** y i k e s  
**Curtis, 3:34pm:** and you guys call me Cujo

\----

They don’t make the playoffs. Markus is upset about it. Of course he is, but it’s easier to miss the playoffs with Connor there than it would have been to miss them while Connor was in another state. 

Plus, it makes planning a wedding easier. They have so many schedules to balance, but they find a date in mid-July that seems to work for everyone. 

Playoffs will be over, and if Boston makes it to the final like it appears they might, Nines will be done too. 

Curtis is already in Detroit, and he’s surprisingly helpful with the wedding planning. 

“Do you guys have a venue already?” 

Connor and Markus share a look. 

“Not yet. It’s only April.” 

Curtis stares at them. “It’s only April, they say. Do you understand how fast venues get booked? Oh my God. I’m calling North.”

“What would you know about weddings?” Connor gripes, pouting as Curtis whips out his phone.

“Apparently more than you two knuckleheads.” He dismisses them when North apparently picks up the phone. “North! They don’t have a venue!”

Curtis wanders out of the room as he talks. “I know! That’s what I said.”

North arrives with Kara and Traci in tow. “I brought wedding backup. We’re going to buckle down. What do you have? Do you have a checklist?” 

“Do we need a checklist?” Connor asked, dazed. 

Markus isn’t really sure how their chill afternoon ended up like this.

Kara stares at them in pity. “You poor, naive fools.”

Kara recommends them the planner she and Luther used for their wedding. 

Markus happily hands off everything. He goes where he’s told. His favorite part is the cake tasting. Getting fitted for tuxes is a close second. Cake only wins out because there was no threat of indecent exposure in the way there was when Markus saw Connor in each of the tux options he was choosing between. 

Nines shows up at the end of May. They lost in the Conference Finals. 

“Tough nuts, huh,” Curtis says, clapping Nines on the back sympathetically. 

Nines shrugs. “Yeah. It sucks, but now I get to see this disaster in person. North has been very vocal in the chat about how dumb you guys are.”

Markus rolls his eyes. “It hasn’t been that bad.”

Simon makes a face. “It’s been pretty bad, Markus. How late were you going to wait until you started looking into the wedding stuff?”

Markus stays damningly silent. 

“It’s better now,” Kara says diplomatically. 

“Meaning there was full blown intervention so we could get them on the right path,” North explains. 

“You’re all uninvited,” Connor says.

The ceremony itself is perfect. Most of the Detroit roster is there, as well as Gavin. Connor’s brothers serve as his groomsmen. Markus picks North, Simon, and Josh. He briefly wondered if Leo would be offended that he wasn’t included in the wedding party, but Leo made it clear he was just happy to be invited. Leo and his father are sitting in the front row.

“I haven’t always been the greatest brother,” Leo admitted over the phone. “I don’t blame you for wanting the friends who have been there for you through everything up there. God knows I can’t say the same.”

Connor cries a little. Markus cries a lot. It’s fine. Markus notices Hank wiping his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. Markus was definitely looking.

Their chairs at the reception have their jerseys over the back, now with matching hyphenated name plates. Markus cries some more when he sees those, and North teases him as mascara runs down her cheeks.

Markus lets Connor smash cake into his face, and then blushes when Connor licks the icing off his cheek to the cheers of their guest. 

He has never been happier. 

**’NHL players Markus and Connor Manfred-Anderson Dating the Whole Time’**

**Author's Note:**

> Jakub Vrana and Madison Bowey of the Capitals would hold hands as they went out onto the ice for games, so I borrowed that from them because it is so soft. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, y'all. Comments appreciated.


End file.
